Trichotillomania
by xXCarlaLouiseXx
Summary: Are looks really that important? Unfortunately, in South Park High School they are. However, with the help of his best friend Craig, Tweek is about to find out that appearence definitely isn't everything. Muti-chap fic. Creek.


Author's Note: Hi, I'm back! :D

On a more serious note, this fanfiction is based on a subject that is quite close to home and I feel very strongly about the unhealthy obsession people seem to have with appearence these days and the amount of importance people put on looks. This is going to be my main project for a while, but I'm not going to completely stop working on my other fics.

The Creek friendship will eventually develop into romance and I may or may not put some K2 in there as a background pairing (not sure yet).

The main subject of this fanfiction will be Trichotillomania.

Trichotillomania is classed as an obsessive compulsive disorder, which causes someone to pull out their hair. Recently I've found a new hero who has inspired me so much. She has trich and it really gets her down sometimes, but she fails to let it beat her. I just think she's so brave for facing up to all the bullying and the crap she gets from her parents. She's an amazing role model to anyone who ever feels like they don't quite belong.

Of course, I have also found major inspiration in Lady Gaga, who's message is to just be who you are and not let anyone stop you from expressing yourself. However I would like to focus on the subject of hair for a little longer so I'll leave that point there for now.

A lot of people seem to think hair is insignificant, but I'm beginning to see lately just how big a part it plays in someone's life. My mother has had alopecia since her teens. Alopecia is basically when the hair falls out. It may not seem like something that is a big deal, but people can be cruel, especially when it comes to appearence and image. My mother has had her heart broken so many times due to the fact that she has no hair, and she always get's so paranoid about wearing wigs, asking me if I can tell it's a wig or not. She's afraid to tell people about it because she feels like it somehow makes her less of a person and she's so afraid of losing people because of it.

I'm a strong believer in people just being who they are and loving who they are so whenever I see something bad happen to her due to something that isn't her fault and something that is a part of her it breaks my heart too. I know there are many others out there with problems like this (trust me you are not alone) and I want to do something to express how unfair I think it is that people who don't have such problems get to laugh at, single out and put down the people who do.

If we were all supposed to 'fit in' then why are we all so different?

If we were supposed to all be a certain way then how come not one pair of eyes is exactly the same?

It's ridiculous how people seem to think that you have to look a certain way, dress a certain way, listen to certain types of music and even like only a certain type of person. It's like expecting every single snowflake to be the exact same shape, or trying to fit a square into a circle.

Ok so I'm starting to ramble now, sorry about that. Obviously I feel very strongly about this.

I guess I'm just going to end this author's note by saying that I don't think you should ever try to fit in if you just don't. You are who you are, don't try to change it, just embrace it and be happy.

I hope you enjoy this fic.

Disclaimer: I do not own South Park :(

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><p>Tweek bit his lip as he glanced down at the page, focusing as best as he could on that day's math problems. Unfortunately, with all of his concentration centred on his right hand as it erratically scribbled its way across the page, he wasn't paying any attention to his left hand's shenanigans and something that had recently become a major hassle in Tweek's life began to show its ugly face once again. It was something he hardly even noticed while he was doing it, but the results were usually pretty hard to miss.<p>

A pair of concerned, honey brown eyes settled on him, watching his actions from the seat behind him. The owner of said eyes leaned to the left slightly, tapping her best friend's shoulder with perfectly manicured nails. "Wendy!" the girl whispered harshly. When there was no reply she repeated the action.

Wendy Testaburger rolled her dark blue eyes and turned sharply to face her friend, causing her, straight, midnight black hair to fan out slightly before settling neatly back into place. "What do you want Bebe?" she questioned in an irritated tone. "I'm trying to actually get my work done this time." She added.

Bebe leaned over a little more and placed a hand in front of her mouth, not wanting to be overheard by her latest gossip victim. "Is it just me," she whispered, cautiously switching her gaze towards the subject of the conversation, "or is Tweek Tweak pulling out his hair?" she inquired.

Wendy's eyes searched out said teen and widened at what they found. Thin, delicate fingers twirled the messy threads of gold on Tweek's head, before ripping the hairs out of there place. She watched in horror as the small strands of sunshine floated to the carpeted floor beneath him. However, the thing which concerned both girls the most was the fact that Tweek didn't even seem to be aware of what he was doing. "Does he even realize what he's doing?" Wendy questioned, voicing her previous thoughts.

Bebe paused to think about it before shaking her head slightly. "I don't know," she answered. "Hang on a second," she said. "I'll ask Lola." Scribbling down her question on the corner of her note pad, she tore the message away from the rest of the book and passed it to Kyle, who was sitting to her right. She didn't bother to fold the note and hide its contents, knowing that Kyle had probably overheard the conversation anyway. "Kyle, pass this to Lola for me," she instructed, batting her eyelashes and sending him a pleading look.

Kyle let out a sigh "Ok, but I'm going to warn you now that this isn't going to end well." He stated. "We all know what happens when Tweek gets upset."

"Please," Bebe scoffed. "What he doesn't know can't possibly hurt him, and I doubt anyone would be stupid enough to tell him that we're talking about him." She pointed out.

"Just don't say I didn't warn you when all hell breaks loose," He instructed before passing the note on to its next reader.

Before long the whole class were staring at Tweek with wide eyes, wondering why the blonde was attacking his scalp so viciously. For once Tweek was way too lost in what he was doing to notice the eyes burning into his back. However, his best friend Craig had noticed and was trying hard not to turn around and flip off every single one of them. When the note reached his desk he almost completely lost his cool, but being Craig –someone who never loses his cool- he settled for clenching his fists and turning to send his own, perfected brand of death glare towards his class mates.

Unfortunately and unknown to the raven haired teen, Tweek had seen the piece of paper land on Craig's desk and his attention was immediately drawn to it. "Hey C-Craig," he said quietly, grabbing the boy's attention, "what's that? What does it –ack- say?" he questioned, leaning over slightly and letting his emerald eyes rest on the page.

"Nothing. It says nothing." Craig answered a little too fast, attempting to cover the page with his hand before Tweek could read it.

This was a pointless action, as Tweek had obviously already seen it. The damage was already done. He watched as wide eyes travelled to and rested on the left hand, which had been the source of his classmates' sudden curiosity. Within a few milliseconds those big, timid, orbs of green were filled with disappointment, frustration and sadness. Craig felt his heart ache when he saw a single tear escape, rolling down the blonde's cheek. "OH JESUS! WHY DOES IT K-KEEP HAPPENING?" Tweek cried out, pressing his face into his hands and darting out of the room. Craig took off after him almost as soon as he had left, ignoring his teacher's shouts of protest.

Everyone stared at the spot where Tweek used to sit in utter shock; he hadn't had an outburst on that level since elementary school. "Told you so," Kyle stated, shooting a glare at the blonde girl beside him.

"Well excuse me for being concerned for my fellow students." Bebe defended.

"Yeah right," Kyle argued. "All you care about is the fact that you have a new 'freak' to gossip about." He snapped.

Bebe let out a loud, irritated huff before flipping her curly, blonde locks behind her shoulder and turning her focus back to her work. Kyle watched in disbelief. Didn't she even care? It was her fault after all.

However, he realized with a pang of guilt that he was just as much to blame. He shouldn't have passed the note on in the first place. With a sigh he also tried to focus on his work, finding it difficult when he began to wonder if Tweek was ok.

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><p>Tweek burst through the door to the boys' toilets, finding a cubicle and locking himself inside. He slumped against the wall, sliding into a sitting position. All the while he kept his hands pressed against his face in a desperate attempt to stop, or at least hide, the cascades of tears. "Why c-can't I just –nngh- be normal for once?" he whispered to himself.<p>

Tweek couldn't remember when he'd started pulling his hair out. He had played with his hair ever since he was a toddler, but that was harmless, just something he did to occupy himself.

He could remember pulling his hair out on a couple of occasions throughout his elementary school years, but that was stress induced. He knew he was pulling his hair on those occasions, but he didn't know he was pulling it hard enough to actually remove it. He knew this must have happened sometime between elementary school and high school, but he didn't know a specific time.

Over the years, with the help of his family, countless counselling sessions and his best friend Craig, he had managed to control his shaking. Of course it wasn't completely gone, he still twitched sometimes, but he had a lot more control over it. He was so happy when he was finally able to listen in class and go out in public without his constant twitch getting in the way. All it took was a little more confidence and a little less caffeine. He still had a stammer and he had yet to get rid of his paranoia, but they were just a part of who he was and he didn't know if he would be the same without them. However, he knew that something else would come along to replace the twitching, and that something else turned out to be hair pulling.

Right now all the boy could do was thank his paranoia for preventing him from getting his hair cut. If it wasn't for the fact that Tweek was terrified of scissors for the numerous possible accidents they could cause, Tweek's hair wouldn't be long enough to cover the hairless patches that were beginning to form in various places.

What if it continued? What if the problem became more severe? What was he going to do when that uncontrollable hair of his no longer hid his newest habit? What would he do when people began to criticize and ridicule him for it? Would he ever be able to face that? What about Craig? Would Craig stop being friends with him? He really didn't think he could handle that.

It was simply too much pressure and Tweek just wasn't sure how he would get through it this time.

Craig entered the room, closing the door softly behind him so it wouldn't startle his skittish friend and tentatively approached the blonde's hiding place. "Tweek?" he said softly, knocking gently on the door.

"P-please just –gah- leave me alone Craig," Tweek sobbed. "I just n-need to –nngh- think." He explained weakly.

Craig sighed, pressing his forehead against the door. "We both know that's not going to happen Tweek," he replied. "I'm not leaving because I know that if I do you're just going to be in here getting yourself all worked up about what happened back there." He stated, knowing that Tweek wouldn't be able to deny it. After being Tweek's best and only friend and confidant for so long, he knew more about the blonde than anyone else. Receiving nothing but silence as a response, he let out another sigh. "Tweek, just come out here and talk to me about this." He pleaded.

"I c-can't," Tweek answered. "What if someone walks in and –gah- hears us?" he questioned.

"Ok," Craig replied, "then let me in." he offered. When Tweek still refused to reply he was forced to add a word he hardly ever used. "…please."

With that one word he heard a small gasp, followed by the lock sliding open. Tweek didn't open the door fully, siting back down and going back into his previous position. Craig pushed the door open and stepped inside, locking the door and siting opposite the upset teen. He frowned when he saw that Tweek had once again pressed his hands were hiding those bright, emotion filled eyes of his. He decided that this was a problem he could easily remedy and reaching forward, he gently wrapped his hands around Tweek's wrists, pulling them away from his face.

"So…" Craig said, still holding Tweek's wrists in case the blonde decided to use them as a barrier again. "Are you gonna talk to me about this?" he inquired. "Or are you just going to bottle it up and let it get out of hand?" he added.

Tweek gave Craig a sad look, capable of breaking even Cartman's heart –if he has one- and started to reply, his lips trembling slightly as he forced the words out. "W-will you still b-be my –gah- friend?" he asked, choosing to look at the floor instead of Craig's face. "Even after I tell-"

Craig stopped him there; removing his right hand from the pale wrist it was clutching and placing it against the boy's cheek, wiping away a stray tear with his thumb. "Tweek, look at me." He instructed. When tear filled pools of green hesitantly met with concerned greyish blue Craig continued, "Nothing that you tell me will ever stop me from being your friend." He stated. "I told you that I would never judge you when we first became friends and I meant it. I don't care that you're a little too cautious or that you can't speak one sentence without stuttering or adding your own little made up words. Hell, I wouldn't even walk away from you if you told me that you were a wanted criminal or part alien or something. You're the only true friend I have, the only person who will put up with my attitude for more than five minutes and I wouldn't give that up for anything." Craig felt an involuntary smile tug at the corners of his lips when he saw the small, warm smile that Tweek was giving him. "So are you gonna tell me what's going on?" he questioned.

Tweek gave a small nod and took a deep breath, "I've b-been pulling my –ack- hair out." He whispered shakily, tears beginning to fall once more. "I know I used to p-pull my hair all the time, but it's getting worse." he sobbed.

"How is it getting worse?" Craig asked carefully. Tweek's free hand went straight to his head, where he knew there was a completely hidden, hairless patch of skin. He bit his lip as his fingers came into contact with his scalp, wondering how the taller boy would react. Craig had a sinking feeling when he saw this and rephrased his question. "Can you show me how bad it is?" he requested. With a loud sob the blonde pulled his other wrist free of Craig's grasp, placing both hands under the -thankfully untouched- top layer of hair, slowly and unsteadily lifting the curtain of blonde to reveal the extent of his hair pulling. He turned to kneel so that his back was facing Craig and the taller teen could get a good look at the areas where Tweek was starting to go bald. Craig let out a rare gasp "Tweek-"

"I know what you're g-going to say." Tweek interrupted. "You're going to say that I'm –gah- doing this to myself and th-that I should just stop. You're probably thinking that I d-don't deserve sympathy because it's something that I'm doing. I bet you're feeling really d-disappointed in me right now because we went through so much trouble with my twitching and n-now I'm doing this instead." The blonde whimpered, pausing for air before continuing. "But I can't control it. I d-don't even realise I'm doing it sometimes. It just –ack- happens and I've tried everything I can to stop it, but I can't. I just can't stop it." Silent tears rolled down Tweek's face, splashing on the tiled floor below him.

He had expected Craig to either just leave or start yelling him. Said stoic teen did none of these things, opting for a different approach. Tweek let out a sharp gasp when a pair of familiar, protective arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him back against a warm chest. "Like I said, I'm never going to judge you." Craig said softly, tightening his hold a little. "I know this is something you can't control." He added. Tweek was almost shaking with the violent sobs he was letting out, wondering how he had ever been lucky enough to find a friend who accepted him, every single aspect of him, without any questions or harsh comments.

"Shhh, it's ok Tweek." Craig tried as best as he could to soothe the blonde. "I'm going to help you get through this. You don't need to suffer through it on your own anymore." He promised.

"R-really?" Tweek sniffed.

"Really," Craig replied. "But you have to trust me." He pointed out.

"You're one of the only p-people I do trust." Tweek confessed.

"Good." Craig answered. "Now, first of all, you have to tell your parents about this." He warned.

"WHAT? WHY?" Tweek yelled, beginning do panic. "B-but what if they –ack- see it and get angry? What if the disown me? Or worse what if they decide they don't want a bald son and try to get rid of me once and for all? Oh Jesus! They wouldn't sell me to the circus would they? Would they Craig? I can't be part of a freak show! It's too much-"

"Tweek." Craig interjected. "You're parents are kind people, they wouldn't sell you to a circus." He pointed out. "If you tell them about this they can help. They might know what it is or know someone who can tell you what it is." He explained. "I promise I'll be right there with you, and I won't let anything bad happen. Is that ok?" he inquired.

"Ok." Tweek nodded.

"Don't worry Tweek; they won't be angry about this. Besides, they would've found out eventually if you hadn't told them anyways." He stated truthfully. Yet, however true that fact may have been, Tweek still couldn't shake the sinking feeling that began to creep into his body.

Would his parents be as accepting as Craig was?


End file.
